Something Old, Something New
by angelsofthelord
Summary: When Sam and Dean come to the small town of Cottonwood, Utah investigating a mysterious death of an old woman they meet 3 men who soon become very important for solving this hunt - and surviving. SUPERWHOLOCK
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Dean," Sam called to his brother who was sitting on the bed eating a greasy bacon cheeseburger.

Dean didn't answer, just kept bobbing his head to You Shook Me All Night Long and shoving his face full of the heart attack on a bun.

"Dean!" Sam nearly screamed, throwing a pen at his elder brother which hit him square in the head and made him look up.

"What the hell, man?" Dean said, angrily turning down the radio and polishing off the last of his burger.

"We're _supposed_ to be researching the death of an elderly woman who was found as a pile of ashes in her home last week, remember?" Sam replied, annoyed.

"Yeah, so what? I can't take a break once in a while?"

"No, Dean, you can't! You haven't done anything! I've been sitting here for the past three hours trying to figure out what it could be and in that time you've taken a shower, went and got food, which by the way is now completely gone because you ate it all, and you've managed to give me a massive headache with all the music you've been playing so goddamn loudly!" Sam said, throwing his hands up while keeping his eyes locked on Dean's.

"Oh, quit your bitching. I've done enough." Dean said, reaching for the volume control on the radio.

"Don't you even think about…Dean!" he yelled as Dean turned the music back up and began singing along to Wanted Dead or Alive.

"You know what, screw you," And with that Sam slammed his laptop shut and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, "I'm going out. Be back later."

Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala and slammed the motel door shut.

Dean just smirked and turned the music up even louder.

When Sam stepped outside he was greeted with a burst of fresh air. It felt good after being stuck inside a stuffy motel room for hours.

Sam sighed and slid into the driver's seat of the 1967 Chevrolet Impala and started the engine. He could recognize the sound of this car from miles away and it brought back memories of his childhood, riding in the backseat, sometimes curled up next to Dean, watching their dad as they drove across the continental US in search of everything that went bump in the night.

Coming back from memory lane, Sam began to back up when he spotted two men standing outside one of the doors to a room, who, by the looks of it, were inspecting it.

One had curly, black hair and was wearing a trenchcoat with the collar popped up. He seemed to be talking out loud to the shorter man beside him who had sandy, blonde hair.

Sam knit his eyebrows and shook his head. He should go check them out, but decided he wasn't in the mood for playing FBI agent at the moment. So he continued backing out and turned onto the main road headed to the closest city to find a bar. He glanced in his rearview mirror one more time at the two men, only to find that they had disappeared.

Sam shook his head. He's really losing his mind now.

"So, tell me again why we're in America?" John asked Sherlock, who was bent over the motel door, looking it up and down.

"Because, John, an old friend contacted me with an issue he's been having. The case seemed interesting enough, so I took it. Anymore questions?" Sherlock said, glancing over his shoulder at his best mate.

John sighed. "And exactly who is this friend of yours?"

"You'll see soon enough. We're meeting him later tonight, but right now we need to hide." Sherlock said, gesturing towards a black car stopped at the end of the parking lot. The man inside appeared to be watching them, an unsettling stare.

"Right. Over here." John said, grabbing Sherlock's arm and dragging him behind a dumpster.

They waited and watched as the man drove away heading towards the small town that was nearly 10 minutes away.

After a few moments of silence John spoke up.

"Well, he seems suspicious. Possible suspect, maybe?"

"Or, a curious man. Someone who saw two men standing outside a motel room looking as if they were going to break in. I doubt there's anything to be worried about." Sherlock reassured John, turning and heading back toward their rental car.

"I hate not having taxis out here in the middle of nowhere. Utterly inconvenient." Sherlock complained, getting into the passenger side door.

"Yes, well, not everywhere can be like London." John replied as he got into the other seat and started the car.

"Pity. London is so very interesting. Cases galore. The United States is such a bore."

John smiled and shook his head, pulling out of the motel parking lot, heading in the same direction the man had gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam opened the motel door as silently as he could and slipped inside, careful not to wake his brother who had, by the looks of it, passed out on the bed while using the Magic Fingers.

He rolled his eyes and slipped off his jacket and shoes and started cleaning up the leftover food wrappers Dean had left behind which were now scattered on the floor.

"I swear to god, Dean," Sam whispered under his breath as he bent down to pick up a Chinese food container.

As he was turning to dump the trash in the bin next to him he heard a crash from outside followed by a strange whirring sound. Sam turned towards the door and grabbed his gun from the table.

"Dean," he whispered loudly enough knowing Dean would hear it.

Dean was out of bed, with a gun, and beside him in a flash.

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked softly.

"Noise. Outside. Didn't sound like a person," Sam said.

"Great," Dean said sighing, "Let's go check it out."

The brothers inched towards the door. Dean looked at Sam and mouthed the words, _one, two, three, _then swung open the door.

"Sherlock, will you stop harassing the waitress," John said, rolling his eyes at his friend who sat across from him.

"Well, it's not my fault her parents kicked her out of the house and she became horribly rude," Sherlock said matter-of-factly, folding his hands together and staring at John like he should understand.

"My god, you are such a pain in the arse, I don't know why I'm friends with you," John shook his head and finished up his steak, watching as Sherlock grinned slightly and looked around the pub.

"This place is a magnet for the heartbroken, look, her over there," Sherlock said, pointing towards a girl leaning across the bar handing a man a beer, "Her boyfriend was killed in an accident. Hm, but what kind of accident? Oh, car, obviously. And him," he said nodding towards a man who was writing someone's order down on a pad of paper, "His girlfriend turned out to be a prostitute. And," he paused for a moment, looking over at John who was glaring at him, "Sorry, but I'm booored," Sherlock drawled out the vowel while leaning back in his chair, "He hasn't showed yet, and this case is so dull-"

"Okay, I get it," John said interrupting Sherlock as he payed the bill, "But maybe if you told me what's going on I can try and help and make it, somewhat, less dull."

They got up and began walking outside as John waited for Sherlock to respond.

After lay got outside Sherlock sighed and looked over to John.

"There's, a man, who helped me once, quite long before I met you," Sherlock began, "The Doctor, he called himself. Quite a peculiar name to call oneself, I always thought, but I never intended on asking him why he did. Well, as it turns out, he is in need of my help. Serious problem. Definitely not our usual."

"And by "not our usual", you mean?" John asked, opening the door to the car.

"Alien, John, when I say not out usual, I mean not anyone's usual. Aliens, and I know for a fact that's what The Doctor is as well," Sherlock answered sliding into the black Corolla.

"Woah, um, hold on a sec, did you just say, _aliens? _As in green bodies, with big heads, UFOs and all that stuff?" John asked bewildered as he slid into the car after him.

"No, I presume not. Just because of what the film industry has shown you of aliens, John, doesn't mean they look and act the same way," Sherlock sighed, "I can't tell you much because The Doctor didn't inform me as to whom we were looking for or what we were looking for. He simply said, _"Meet me at Sunshare Motel in Cottonwood, Utah. Urgent. Aliens."_."

John shook his head.

"And you just listened to him? Sherlock, you don't know a lot about this, this, alien, or whatever, he could be dangerous, this could be, a, a trap or something," John said throwing his hands up.

"This man or alien more correctly, saved my life. I am in his, debt. And I don't like being in other people's debts. So I'm doing this for him," Sherlock said, looking over at John, "Now drive, before you pass out from exhaustion. You haven't slept in nearly 2 days. And you know I hate to drive."

John continued to shake his head as he put the keys in the ignition.

"We aren't done discussing this," John said pointing his finger at Sherlock as he pulled out of the parking lot.


End file.
